Quidditch Tryouts on Quidditch Pitch

Coach Kinsell

February 09, 2019 12:26 PM

Quidditch Tryouts by Coach Kinsell

The Quidditch sign-up sheet had garnered a promising number of names by the time the tryouts rolled around. Timothy had noted that there was a significant number of Pecari students that had signed up and for a moment he had wondered if there might in fact be potential for house matches after all. However, there did not appear enough interest from the other houses to allow this to happen, which was a shame for the Pecaris. Nevertheless, Timothy felt hopeful as he set up for the Quidditch tryouts - there was a good chance of having a first and a second team this year, which would give everyone more of a chance to play without compromising the success of the team. It was a good day for flying, not too much wind or sun, and the temperature outside neither hot nor cold.

“Right, listen up everyone,” Timothy began. “To start off with we’ll get warmed up. I’d like you all to jog one lap around the pitch. Remember this is only a pulse raiser, not a race.” When everyone had returned from the jog, Timothy ran them all through a series of stretches. It was primarily for the younger students as the older students should really know how to warm up properly, especially if any of them hoped to be captain, but one could never be too sure.

“Alright, grab your brooms,” Timothy directed once he finished leading the sequence of stretches. “You have one lap to warm up and then we’ll have a two lap race. Following on from that we will do some skill based tests.”

The skill based test involved weaving through long poles and then on to dodging moving obstacles (charmed padded boxes which would not hurt if crashed in to), and flying through hoops which were charmed to hover at different levels, meaning that players would to change altitude quickly. Two identical courses were set up so it wouldn’t take as long, with half the group starting at one end and the other half starting at the other end of the pitch. On one side players would fly with the Quaffle under arm and finish by attempting to score a goal at the end and then catch a charmed ball promptly afterwards. On the other side players would carry a Beater’s bat and attempt to hit a charmed ball into one of the goal hoops at the end. Once a player had completed the course they would then do it from the opposite end so both skills were covered.

Timothy explained the tests to the group once they had returned from the two-lap race and split them into two so they could begin.

The Quidditch Coach had included such an intense test at the start of the tryouts so he could quickly get a good idea of the students’ all-round skill set. There was a chance that some of the players wouldn’t get the positions they wanted, or weren’t even well suited to the position they wanted, so he liked to make his own mind up about where they should be on the pitch. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t going to take their preferences into consideration, but it was likely that not everyone would be able to have their ideal position due to numbers, or some may simply be new to the sport and want some guidance.

When the group had finished the tests, Timothy drew his wand and removed the charm that was levitating and animating the elements of the obstacle course so they all fell to the ground. He turned to Johana Leonie - he had been surprised when one of the first years signed up to be a “helper” on the Quidditch sign-up sheet but had been happy to give her the opportunity. “Johana Leonie, could you put the dummies out and pick up the obstacle course please.” He had already explained to her the proceedings of the tryouts and had given her a large trolley of sorts that she could wheel about to move things easily, since he doubted her magic would be advanced enough to be of use as yet. He felt a bit guilty asking her to do such jobs but if she really wanted to do it, he couldn’t see a good reason to stop her.

“Right, now I’d like to assess you all in your preferred positions. Those trying out for the Keeper position - you’re going to take turns in front of the hoops at one end of the pitch. Chasers, you’re going to practice shooting against the Keeper - start from the centre circle and practise passing to one another, sticking to that half of the pitch - make sure you all get a go attempting to shoot. I know you all want to show off, but if you want to make it onto the team, I need to see teamwork. Beaters, come get yourselves a bat and then make your way over to the other half of the pitch. You’ll see where the dummies are - practise batting the bludgers towards each other as well as at the dummies. Be sensible, and look out for each other. If any of you have hopes of being captain this year, this is your chance to show me your leadership skills.”

Once the students had the necessary equipment and had returned to the air, Timothy drew his wand and charmed the dummies that the Beaters were using for target practice so that they would levitate and move.

Subthreads:

A bundle of nerves by Isaac Song with Parker Fitzgerald, Heinrich Hexenmeister

Here to win by Winston Pierce with Jeremy Mordue

Beating this tryout by Hilda Hexenmeister with Simon Mordue

Another Chaser thread. by Lily Spencer with Jozua Sparks

Starting out by Jake "JD" Daniels

8 Coach Kinsell Quidditch Tryouts 1445 Coach Kinsell 1 5

Isaac Song

February 10, 2019 6:14 PM

A bundle of nerves by Isaac Song

Isaac was a bundle of nerves the day of Quidditch tryouts. He could barely eat his breakfast, and when he finally made his way to the Quidditch Pitch, he could feel his hands shaking. Obviously, he was nervous. It was his first time ever trying out for Quidditch because he had never been confident on a broom before. During the summer, he had gone to a sports camp which included magical sports, and getting the taste of Quidditch—even though it was more Quadpot—had piqued his interest. Finally, finally he was going to bite the bullet and do it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about it, though.

This coach seemed both friendly and intense, and Isaac didn’t know whether he admired him or was afraid of him. During the lap around the pitch, he tried to stay focused on the task at hand instead of looking at all of the obstacles flying around in the air. He really didn’t want to fall off his broom and look like a fool in front of everybody. Not only was he a Prefect, but he was also a sixth-year, and it would be super embarrassing for an athletic-looking sixth-year to fall off of his broom for any reason in front of a bunch of other students. He felt kind of panicky at the thought, but again tried to focus his thoughts to putting one foot in front of the other.

The next exercise was flying around the pitch, and he could do that pretty easily. The race was nerve-racking, and he definitely wasn’t close to the front, though he wasn’t last either. During the obstacle course, though, it became clear who was experienced and who wasn’t. Isaac kind of fell into the latter. He was pretty agile on his feet, but on a broom, he was having trouble. The moving obstacles threw him off and he bumped into several on his way through. He missed one of the hoops after hitting one obstacle head-on, but he regained his bearings pretty quick. Throwing the Quaffle into the hoop was simple, and he caught the charmed ball with ease.

Isaac groaned when he realized he’d have to go through the obstacle again, but the second time went a lot better. This time, he only hit one of the moving obstacles. At the end, he picked up the bat and readied himself. It kind of felt like a mixture of baseball and tennis, both of which he was good at. He whacked the ball toward the goal, and, to his surprise, it went through the hoop. “Yes!” he said to himself, pumping his fist. Honestly, he thought it was sheer luck, but it still made him feel good.

When it came time to try out for their preferred positions, Isaac went to the hoops at one end of the pitch. It didn’t seem like there were too many people trying out for Keeper, which gave him a better chance. He floated in front of the three hoops and spread out his arms, trying to gauge how crazy fast he’d have to move if someone threw a Quaffle in any of them. He had played the goalie in soccer before, and it didn’t seem that different, except they floated dozens of feet off the ground. He swallowed nervously. He would not fall off his broom. Isaac gripped his broom tightly, then relaxed his hands. He looked carefully at the Chasers to see what their next move was going to be.

19 Isaac Song A bundle of nerves 375 Isaac Song 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

February 11, 2019 1:49 PM

A bundle of energy by Parker Fitzgerald

Parker had been surprised to see Isaac Songs name on the tryout sheet. He didn’t know the boy, but did know he’d not seen him on the Quidditch field before. When he came down to breakfast he noticed Isaac wasn’t eating too much, and as Parker ate, as he seemed to be constantly doing these days, he tried to figure out how to start a conversation or at least get Isaac to eat. It might not turn out so well for Isaac if he was trying out for something on an empty stomach.

Later, as Parker stood on the pitch listening to the Coaches instructions, he couldn’t help but smile. He’d been able to take the broom out and fly up and down and around a bit before the tryouts to ensure he still had some agility in his ability. Still, he could feel the energy start to flow through him. He knew he could get over excited again. Starting with a run made him happy. Running he knew how to do. As his feet hit the track, he let the footfalls count the numbers he counted repeatedly, trying to bring his excitement energy level down.

Once Parker finished, he began to stretch a bit waiting for others to finish as well. He realized the coach was going to lead them through some stretches. Parker began to follow along with those stretches, a few of which were new.

Parker’s broom raised to his hand and he smiled. Though he’d been at the school for three years, it was still always amazing when he did something so easily and effortlessly as make a broom raise to his hand. Or get a spell to work on the first try. It was the little things.

As he took off around the track for the warm-up race he noticed Isaac again. He smiled. The older boy was out on the pitch. He silently cheered him on in his head. For some reason, he always liked it when new people tried their hand at a sport.

After the first lap though, he put his head down. He wanted to prove himself. He didn’t want to be reserve again this year. He began to speed through the first turn and began to go faster. At some point near the end of his first lap and the beginning of his second he realized he was near the front. Not the front person but near the front, and that’s when he lost a bit of concentration and wobbled. Not enough to throw him, but enough for him to veer away from the turn and towards the stands. He quickly corrected, but the speed at which it had occurred was a bit unnerving and Parker could feel his heart beating as he completed his last lap.

His mind wasn’t fully there anymore. His nervous energy was raising and he knew he needed to count down or the adrenaline from the near crash mixing with his excitement might lead him to be reckless. But there was no time, his heart still racing Parker got inline for the skills course. He could feel his body tense as he got to the front of the line and as soon as the the quaffle was in his arms he began to move. He moved through the long pools quickly and smoothly, but found himself more barreling through the padded boxes than around them. With the hoops he was able to move through them quickly, but he felt like he could have done better. Parker had watched a few other students before him move through so he knew how the end would be. Still after he shot on goal and just barely missing it, he was not fully prepared for the full weight of the ball that came at him. It was in that instant, as the new ball flew into him, that Parker was glad he’d spent time working out with his brother. Though the ball was heavy, it didn’t hurt as much as the last time a ball had slammed into him in his first year. He was able to hold onto it, but had taken it in a weird angle and sat shaking his arm as he got into the back of the line going the other way. As he shook his arm he was able to count to five before picking up the Beater’s bat. He’d calmed down. Thus, as he flew through the obstacle course he was able to move out of the way of more of the charmed boxes, though he did run straight into one of them almost dropping the bat in the process. Still, going through the hoops was much smoother this second time around.

Once he got to the end he readied the Beater’s bat like a baseball bat and swung with all his might. He could feel the connection and the reverberations down his arms. Parker had been aiming for one of the hoops but it missed. It missed by a wide margin. As Parker saw it fly his he let out a “Gawd Damn merlins ghost” under his breath watching it fly. His left eyebrow shot up though as it neared one of the other hoops and went in.

“Not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it,” Parker said as he headed down.

He knew there would be a lot of people trying out for the different positions, and he’d be willing to try out for others, but he wanted to be a Chaser this year, and not second string.

He flew to a circle and looked down the field and saw Isaac down at the Keeper position. He sat looking at Isaac a while. He’d seen Isaac flying through the other obstacles and had also not seen him previously in the last three years on the Quidditch pitch, he felt this might almost be too easy.

Parker looked at his Chaser partner, “Sorry, I want to make this a fair fight ok?”

Not waiting for any sort of acknowledgement, Parker cupped his hands together and yelled down at Isaac.
“Isaac. Have you ever played goalie in soccer before? If so, instead of looking at our feet. Look at our eyes. That will tell you more about where we’re going than anything else.”

He almost said where the broom was pointed, but he’d seen some pretty great moves by other players where they were not flying towards where they were throwing. It was the best Parker could do simply yelling down the pitch.

He turned to his Chaser partner raising his eyebrows up, “Ok. You ready to see if that helped or hurt?”

41 Parker Fitzgerald A bundle of energy 1402 Parker Fitzgerald 0 5

Winston Pierce

February 12, 2019 1:11 PM

Here to win by Winston Pierce

Winston understood the purpose of jogging as part of the warm up. That didn’t mean he liked it. It was tiring and it made him sweat, and sweat made him stink, and he didn’t like being smelly. So he didn’t exert himself too hard on that part. He was sixteen and so he had a good height advantage on the younger students - though a minor deficit in that area compared to his own age group - so he wasn’t going to be trailing at the back of the pack even without attempting an ambitious pace. Still, he didn’t want to look lazy either. That wouldn’t come across well on the day of tryouts. On the other hand, it had clearly been stated this wasn’t a race. He did not have to finish first, and wasn’t going to try. Not only was that sweaty work, but it might imply he was showing off or disregarding instructions. Basically, he figured, as long as his time was better than Jozua’s - the least athletic of the advanced class players - he would be doing fine. This was achieved with only minimal sweat (he probably could had done it with no sweat at all if Winston’s legs were as long as Jozua’s were, but he’d had a shorter stride to make up for) and a quick charm cleared the light sheen of dampness under his robes and the resultant stink easily enough before he started stretching. Stretching was much preferable to jogging and he demonstrated a solid familiarity with the practice.

Still, he was glad to finally leave the ground behind and get into the air.

The second two laps were a race, and Winston did push himself this time. He even felt he had a good shot at winning, now that his smaller stature was an aid rather than a detriment. He could fold himself into a smaller dart that could cut through the air more easily than larger students, yet he still had the advantage of being more experienced and practiced than the younger students. He spent the first lap gauging his competition, and jockeying for a good starting position. At the start of the second, he pushed hard - not full out, of course, he needed to have enough endurance to finish two laps after all, but he definitely wasn’t just warming up anymore. This was a race. This was serious business.

And, honestly, with basically just his uncle and father to play with at home (and them usually being too busy), improving his speed and maneuverability was basically the only thing he could work on over the summer. So he flew fast and he flew well, and when he crossed the finish line, he was very pleased with his time and performance.

After that, there was an agility course. Winston was eager to give it a try and made mental notes for how he might recreate it next summer - he’d be seventeen by then and legally able to cast his own charms at home. It would sure beat flying pell-mell through the thick New England forest near his home. Though, to be entirely truthful, not running head first into prickly and sappy pine trees was a lot more incentive to dodge well than avoiding these boxes.

Of course, there was also less reason not to take risks, and he could learn just how tight and close he could take a turn without bumping into the obstacles. Still accustomed to unforgiving trees, he gave the poles and boxes a bit more leeway than they entirely needed, but he flew cleanly and without incident. He’d had to slow down a little more than he liked for the hoops, but he’d seen others do much worse, so he figured he was sitting pretty high on the potential list for first string.

Of course, then there was the throwing and catching of the quaffle parts, which he did reasonably well with but nothing extraordinary. He didn’t do anything embarrassing or disqualifying like drop the ball, but he didn’t feel he shone quite as well as some of the others in his attempts to score (with no Keeper on the first pass of the skill test, it went in but bumped the edge of the goal) or catch (he caught it, but not as gracefully as he would have hoped for first impressions). For the Chaser specific exercise, he did well enough - he’d been one of the first string players last year, so he did fine when paired with one of his former teammates, whom he’d practiced with before, but not so well when he had to anticipate the moves and passes of unfamiliar people. Once he passed to empty air when he had expected a particular play his teammate wasn’t following, and another time he hadn’t been paying attention when a pass came toward him instead of the third player he thought was in a better scoring position. And though Winston didn’t register it as a problem himself, the coach probably noted he was something of a ball hog, claiming glory for himself whenever possible, once the initial requisite of everyone getting one shot at goal was satisfied.

On the second pass of the agility test, he had hit a bludger out of necessity for the exercise, and carried a bat through the obstacles. The bat wasn’t too much of a hindrance, being actually easier to hold onto than the Quaffle, but bludger hitting was a thing Winston just didn’t do much and it went way high. He wasn’t too upset about that though - he mostly felt pleased enough that his bat had even connected with the bludger at all. He didn’t even remotely consider going over to the other side of the pitch to try out for the Beater position once he was done with his run as a Chaser potential. His only regret in that regard was that the only captain-centric leadership opportunity had been given to the beaters.

Neither did he line up for Keeper. Keeping was boring and thankless. Winston wanted no part in that.

He assumed some kind Seeker exercise was yet to be announced, so he stuck around for that. He really wanted to outshine Eden this time. And Lily, too, but mostly Eden.

OOC: I did not want to godmod and say Winston won the broom race, but I am also not going to say he didn’t. For the record, broom speed and handling is his best Quidditch skill. Empathy and teamwork are not.

1 Winston Pierce Here to win 370 Winston Pierce 0 5

Heinrich Hexenmeister

February 13, 2019 3:15 PM

I get award for best big brother, yes? by Heinrich Hexenmeister

“First, we jog around the pitch,” Heinrich translated the critical piece of information into German for his sister. “It’s not a race!” he called after her belatedly as she took off. She didn’t seem to hear him and he cursed quietly under his breath and then raced after her. In spite of his two year advantage in age and growth (not that the later amounted to much more than half an inch), Hilda was faster than him. For all that she was only eleven, she seemed to actually be keeping up with the lead group. Heinrich, on the other hand, was falling farther and farther behind, as his initial burst of speed burned out his reserves quickly, and he had to stop briefly to heave for breath before continuing on.

Everyone else had already started stretching before he finished, collapsing in a panting sweating mess next to Hilda. She seemed to have figured out what she was supposed to be doing without help, so he just flopped down on his face and rested until they were told to mount up. By then he had at least caught his breath, so he was able to translate for her, “Three laps on brooms, last two are a race.” She nodded and took off. He didn’t try to keep up this time. He was an Aladren. He’d already learned his lesson that attempting that was a quick way to an early grave.

He wasn’t a bad flier by any means, and he had played local Quidditch in Germany before The Upheaval started, so he wasn’t bad for a thirteen year old, though he was a bit rusty. He had definitely spent a lot more of the last two years working on his English than his Quidditch and it showed.

He finished well behind Hilda and she raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask what took him so long. But then the Coach started explaining the skill test, and Heinrich was too busy trying to listen to words not in his native tongue and repeat them back to his sister in their home language while still logging the English input that he didn’t have time or brainpower to be indignant.

He thought he managed well enough and he felt this alone deserved some kind of award, never mind how he did in the actual tryouts. Which, given his performance just in warmups so far, he was going to estimate would rank somewhere around ‘poorly’.

Things did look up a bit as he carried the quaffle through the course though. He wasn’t flawless, or blindingly fast, but he didn’t think he was doing too much worse than anybody else. He wasn’t standing out from the crowd in a good way, either, unfortunately, but he did toss the quaffle through the unguarded hoop and catch the one that came back at him.

Beating was more Hilda’s area than his, but Heinrich managed the return trip through the obstacles no better or worse than his first trip, though he did use the bat against some of the obstacles to reduce the number of times he and his broom connected with any of them. He just wasn’t sure if the bat touching them counted as a collision, too.

His ending swat at the bludger sent it near the goal but not through it. Of course, Hilda was right behind him and immediately showed him up by whacking hers right through the center hoop like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Once everyone had finished taking their turns at the agility test, Heinrich again did the English in one ear German out through his mouth thing again as he shared the next set of instructions with Hilda. Then they split up and she was on her own as he joined the Chaser hopefuls and she went to the beating side of the pitch.

Heinrich went to the center of the field, and was initially confused when the boy - Parker, Heinrich thought he remembered from classes this year - said something about a fair fight. They were supposed to be teammates. What was he, oh. The Keeper. Parker used strange English words Heinrich did not know but guessed from context might be maybe Quadpot terms? Heinrich did not follow Quadpot, and he definitely did not follow it in English. Quadpot was supposed to be big in America but Sonora seemed thankfully more interested in Quidditch.

Anyway Parker was giving Isaac (that was apparently the Keeper’s name though he was old enough that Heinrich had never encountered him before) Keeping advice. Fine, okay. Heinrich wouldn’t have minded the advantage of going up against an inexperienced player, but he didn’t think the shouted advice provided by Parker was enough to make up for any assumed lack of prior practice.

“I believe little change,” Heinrich stated his opinion, his words heavily accented but understandable. “Good advice, but it hard to do. He will learn, but not yet. Eye wants to follow ball. It is bigger. But I am ready. Let us go. You go fast, I pass.” He held up the Quaffle he currently had possession of.

He started flying then, moving swiftly but not at top speed. When he felt Parker had a good lead on him, but not so far he couldn’t make the pass, Heinrich called out, “Bereit?” The German slipped out through situational habit, and he grimaced in self-recrimination, but there was no time to dwell on the vebal gaffe. He tossed the ball, his pass steady and on target, hopefully making up for the communication failure.

OOC: Bereit = ready

1 Heinrich Hexenmeister I get award for best big brother, yes? 1414 Heinrich Hexenmeister 0 5

Parker Fitzgerald

February 14, 2019 10:29 AM

You got my vote, and I'm a big brother too. by Parker Fitzgerald

Parker raised an eyebrow. The accent was one he could place. It took him a moment, but then he realized it was German. Henrich, that was the boys name. A german Henry.

He was used to the international and intercultural feel of Sonora, but he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to learn spells correctly if English or at least a Latin based language was your first language. Let alone the other parts of class all being in English. Thinking about it made him more impressed with the player next to him as well as Dorian and Katya. Parker was just beginning in his fourth year to feel comfortable and like he was supposed to be at Sonora, and he was from the country. He decided if Henrich was chosen for the team he’d ask about it. It was easier to ask things like that casually when you were relaxing after a workout or something than randomly at a meal or in the middle of classes.

Parker shrugged at Henrich’s comment.
“You are probably correct. But as a team we should try to better everyone.” Parker said, ensuring that he didn’t combine any words, but also not speaking slowly or obviously changing his speech patterns.

“Fast. Yes sir.” Parker leaned into his broom. He could feel the wind rushing through his hair and he knew he was following the instructions. Parker kept zig zagging so he could keep an eye on both Henrich and Isaac. He heard something from behind him that started with a B, but Parker wasn’t sure what it was. He turned his head slightly to see the ball coming for him.

He was able to slow down slightly to catch it. He kept moving forward trying to keep Henrich in his vision and make sure he was still moving forward. As Parker got to the goal he slowed down, he quickly turned his head back.

“Ball!” Parker shouted and passed the Quaffle laterally on his right towards Henrich.

Parker then moved quickly to the left to either get the Quaffle if Henrich missed or to get the bounce back if Henrich tried to score and Isaac batted it away.

41 Parker Fitzgerald You got my vote, and I'm a big brother too. 1402 Parker Fitzgerald 0 5

Hilda Hexenmeister

February 14, 2019 1:16 PM

Beating this tryout by Hilda Hexenmeister

The Quidditch tryouts were today! Hilda could not begin to contain her excitement. She wanted to get on the team so bad, but she was concerned that her age and lack of English were going to work against her. Especially as a beater, being bigger helped. Hilda was tall for her age, being only just a half inch shy of her older brother who was himself about average height for a thirteen year old, so she was by no means tiny as an eleven year old. But she was up against two sixth years. Two second years, too, but Hilda wasn’t too concerned about them. She felt confident in her ability to compete against twelve year olds.

With luck, the one sixth year would get Chaser, as he had signed up for both, but the other was, like her, signed up strictly as a Beater. Luckily, Quidditch needed two, so she didn’t need to best both sixteen year olds, just one of them.

She arrived early to the Pitch, to show her dedication, and dragged her brother along behind her so she didn’t miss any early words of English the coach might offer to the first arrivals. She started stretching immediately, not wanting to get a cramp or anything during the tryout. She scowled at Heinrich until he joined her. No brother of hers was going to just be sitting around when he could be demonstrating their strong Quidditch background to the coach.

Finally, finally, enough people showed up for the coach to get things started. Yes! A foot race! An excellent opportunity to show she could keep up with the bigger students! She took off.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take her long to realize the others weren’t running like it was a race. Still, she kept running hard, no longer trying to win, but rather to stay even with the lead group, which was probably all she’d manage anyway, but at least it would feel less like losing if she wasn’t trying to claim the lead spot. Regardless, it would surely still look good, keeping up with the older kids.

She was out of breath when she reached the end of the lap, sweating profusely, but she’d managed her goal, and the worst of her excess of excitement had been burned off. She was totally ready to buck down and get serious now.

But the Coach started leading stretches first. She’d already done hers - and a good thing, too, or that run might have done her in - but she followed along anyway, not understanding any of the coach’s English, but you didn’t need words to see you were supposed to copy what he was doing.

After a little bit, Heinrich collapsed onto the ground next to her and she gave him a dirty look for failing her as a translator and a brother. Instead of trying to improve the Hexenmeister name by participating with everyone else, he just flopped down on his stomach and didn’t move. The out of shape ninny. At least he’d done some stretches earlier and probably didn’t need to repeat them, though a cool down probably would have been good for him.

He redeemed himself as a translator if not a brother by telling her about the three broom laps, and she took off. She was not able to win. She tried her best and did well enough, but she did not win. But that was okay. Beaters were rarely as speedy as Chasers or Seekers.

Heinrich’s racing was not impressive. She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering just what exactly he’d been doing the last two years to get so slow. He used to at least be able to keep up with her. It did not occur to her that it was she who got faster rather than him who got slower.

But before she could comment on his speed deterioration, the Coach started talking, and Heinrich started translating, and she was actually really impressed by her brother’s command of the foreign language. He was able to talk and listen at the same time. She didn’t think she could do that even if both parts were in German.

Unfortunately, agility was her weakness on a broom. She had pretty decent speed, but try as she might, tight maneuvers eluded her nearly as much as English did.

Still, she wasn’t going to let the skill test defeat her. She held the Quaffle close, its size feeling large and awkward in her arm, put her head down and barreled through the course. The poles she weaved around without too much loss of speed - they weren’t moving so she could ready herself for them ahead of time. The boxes moved about randomly and she tried to avoid them when she could do it without giving up too much momentum, but they were lighter than she was, so she just as often set her shoulder just so and slammed right into it.

The hoops were her bane. She hated the hoops. They required a level of precision the poles hadn’t, and they weren’t just a barrier to power through like the boxes were.

Hilda cut her losses, picked a course where she could pass through three of them without too much tight maneuvering and just ignored the rest. She’d probably lose some points for that, but she hoped it looked better than her floundering at a snail’s pace to get through all of them.

At the end, she tossed the Quaffle toward the middle hoop, but it went wide. As big as she was for her age, she had always gotten assigned beater, so that was what she had always trained in. She wasn’t used to throwing balls, just hitting them.

Just like she did with the Quaffle that came flying back at her, more out of reflex than intent. She saw something coming at her. Her instinct was to bat it away. She didn’t have her bat, so she used her forearm. She expected it to hurt but it was an inflated ball not a metal one and it bounced harmlessly right off her.

She collected a bat and came back through the course, the familiar weight giving her more confidence. The poles went about the same as before, but this time she whacked her way through the boxes, clearing her way through violently. And on this side the hoops were arranged somewhat more forgivingly - or maybe her confidence was just higher after defeating the boxes - and this time she laid out a path that caught five of the hoops instead of only three.

Then a bludger came at her and she grinned victoriously as she smacked it easily through the center goal.

She joined Heinrich who had finished just ahead of her, and waited for everyone else to finish. Then Heinrich did his translation magic and she waved at Johana Leonie as her friend was told how to be the helper she’d signed up to be.

Then she and Heinrich were splitting up. She was armed with a bat and Heinrich’s explanation of what she was supposed to be doing, which was to hit bludgers at dummies and each other - but sensibly and safely, though she honestly wasn’t sure if that last part was the Coach’s instruction or Heinrich’s. In any case, hitting things with bludgers was a thing she could do, so she sought out a bludger and decided to start with the dummies while she gauged from watching everyone else how violent they were supposed to get with each other.

The dummies were moving which would make hitting them somewhat harder than just batting the bludger through a stationary goal, but the dummies weren’t going super fast (yet, that might change as the tryout progressed) and she had little trouble anticipating where they were going (which might also change later). She did not anticipate too much trouble at this level of difficulty. She swung and the bat met her bludger with a loud CRACK. The metal ball flew off into direction she had aimed it and smacked very satisfyingly into her intended target, with fine aim and plenty of oomph. “Ha!” she laughed at it.

Okay. Just keep doing that, she guessed? Heinrich hadn’t said how many targets to hit before they could stop, so she assumed they’d be told to stop when the Coach had seen enough. She went to find another bludger.

1 Hilda Hexenmeister Beating this tryout 1433 Hilda Hexenmeister 0 5

Jeremy Mordue

February 16, 2019 9:13 PM

What about me? by Jeremy Mordue

The day of Quidditch tryouts was finally here. For Jeremy, this was what school was all about. Much like children not really remembering learning to walk or talk, Jeremy could not recall learning to fly. Okay, he had some vague memories of having only a hover broom, and of father running along behind him helping him hold the tail steady. He remembered specific points in his journey to being the excellent flyer that he was today - mostly being gifted specific, increasingly better brooms, or successful ‘firsts’ with his coach - but he never remembered a time when he wasn’t doing it.

He made his way down to the pitch with his cousin, joining up with Nathaniel once they got there. There was very little point in trying to pretend he was nothing to do with his brother given that he, essentially, looked like a scale model of him. And anyway, Nathaniel wasn’t really that bad - he had standing here, as a Quidditch player, and as there weren’t separate house teams they were allies rather than rivals. He supposed that was sort of nice. So long as he got to show that he was better than his brother - which, if he got his desired position of Seeker, should be easy enough, because Seekers were the most important players.

His chances for that weren’t entirely excellent. The last time he had checked, there had been two other people signed up for it. He was pretty sure he could outfly a second year girl of dubious parentage. Winston Pierce was another matter. Even though Jeremy had plenty of arrogance, he knew who else counted as proper, and he knew that Winston outranked him. It didn’t necessarily mean that Winston was more talented, but even Jeremy had enough of a sense of perspective to realise that a sixth year might be better than him, even though he knew from his own family that Winston had not yet played this position for Sonora. Someone with their eye on the long game, of the intricate diplomacy of the Pureblood world, might have seen how this work out in his favour. If Winston got the position on the A team and Jeremy got it for the Bs, then he could essentially be Winston’s protégé - the older boy would be expected to work with him for the time when he took over. Two years as secondary Seeker, forging a really close and decent connection with an influential Pierce… Jeremy was not such a person. Jeremy was used to getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was Seeker, and it annoyed him that someone else was quite likely to get it and that then he’d have to smile and pretend to be pleased for them.

It wasn’t just that he wanted it, he needed it. Both of his roommates were heirs, which meant he had to be something that was better than that. That was nearly impossible. Being heir was pretty much like being the best, even though you only got it through stupid luck of your stupid parents and stupid birth order. It didn’t rely on talent, like Quidditch, which meant that Quidditch could totally count for more (conveniently, Jeremy’s logic always arrived at the thing that he was good at being worth the most). Neither of his roommates had signed up. If Jeremy was winning Quidditch matches for the whole school, he would be a hero.

They started out with a race. The coach said it wasn’t a race but obviously it was a race. Jeremy was quite decent at pacing a run, having spent enough time training. This was harder though. They hadn’t been divided by age group. Obviously he couldn’t be expected to beat seventh years, could he? That didn’t seem fair. He was able to keep a decent pace, he knew not to sprint, though he probably pushed himself harder than necessary to be out at the front. He stretched (it was hard to win at stretching) and got ready for the broom race.

Jeremy had a lot of advantages on his side in this. He was well-trained, having spent most of his life getting private coaching. He also had a top of the line broom. He was small, which was both an advantage and a disadvantage - he had less weight to give him momentum, but also less to slow him down. He could weave and dodge more easily than some of the big players. Size was an advantage in situations where it was acceptable to push people out of the way. Had Jeremy been big, he probably would have decided that the race counted as such an opportunity. As he was small, he hoped it didn’t. If any of the Muggleborns tried it, he could call them out with technical terms like ‘cobbing’ which they probably wouldn’t understand well enough to try to argue against.

Luckily, tattling on anyone to the coach proved unnecessary. Jeremy was able to get through the race on what he regarded as pure talent. He would have been the first to agree that money couldn’t buy talent, because it meant that everything he achieved was down to him, not his family’s gold. And perhaps it was true, to a degree, that there was a level of innate ability - some people were more physically co-ordinated than others, or naturally more daredevil or capable of making the necessary split second decisions. But taking that talent and nurturing it via private coaching, and sitting it on a top of the line broom had to give it some advantages that definitely came from gold rather than anywhere else.

He was pleased to see agility tests, though less pleased to see them ending with Chasing and Beating skills. Those didn’t matter when he was here to try out for Seeker. What was the point in making everyone do them? He almost asked whether he had to, but he caught Nathaniel giving him a Serious Look that said his brother had heard and correctly read the small impatient sigh he had given and was warning him not to make a fuss. He narrowed his eyes slightly at his brother for judging him (a fact made only more irritating by the fact that Nathaniel was actually right) and resolved to do the stupid tests for the stupid positions that he didn’t even want.

The obstacle courses were one of his strongest points. Seekers needed to be agile and fast, and so his training had involved a lot of this sort of thing. Jeremy’s attitude was to go as fast and as close as he could. Speed was absolutely of the essence when you were a Seeker. If you jostled one of the less important players on your way down, who cared? Therefore he didn’t think it mattered if he bumped the odd obstacle. Fast won out over neat and clean every time.

He picked up a Quaffle and threw it at a goal. It was thrown hard enough and accurately enough that it reached the goal. He also caught the ball when it came back because he wasn’t some physically malco-ordinated toddler who was still learning how to use their own limbs. Throwing was easy. Catching was easy. Both were boring. His attempt to bat a ball through the goal was less accurate. The ball was lighter than the bludger, so his relative lack of physical strength didn’t count against him as much, but the older kids were definitely hitting them harder. His ball also went wide. Well, so what? It was going to be someone else’s job to protect him. He finished this segment of the tryouts by returning the ground in a break neck dive, which he pulled out of a couple of feet from the ground. It wasn’t quite grass-brushing Wronski Feint closeness but it was definitely impressive for his age, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew he could do that, just in case he didn’t get another chance to show it.

Though he suspected, of course, that he would. There would be a Seeker tryout and it ought to involve diving. He waited whilst the coach went through the lesser positions, assigning them their boring tasks. Saving the best till last, obviously. Except then… there wasn’t even an announcement of what they would do. Jeremy knew the coach couldn’t watch them all at the same time, but everyone else had been told what they were doing. There wasn’t going to be much point to all those warm ups if they stood around long enough to cool down again.

He made his way over to Winston, who was obviously also at a loose end now.

“What are we supposed to do?” he muttered irritably. Then remembering that, just because he knew who Winston was, and just because it was painfully obvious who he was related to, didn’t mean they had actually been introduced or anything. “Jeremy Mordue of the Oregon Mordues,” he added politely, extending his hand.

13 Jeremy Mordue What about me? 1443 Jeremy Mordue 0 5

Lily Spencer

February 18, 2019 3:59 PM

Another Chaser thread. by Lily Spencer

Getting back into the familiarity of school had helped Lily’s transition. She was still sad at unexpected times during the day and always thought of Tod whenever she saw other students with pets. She’d almost missed the signup sheet for Quidditch, but she was very glad she hadn’t. It was one of the few things that could make her stop thinking about her deceased dog for a longer period of time.

When Lily got to the pitch, she was quite glad to see so many Pecaris joining. She was proud of her house-mates and their level of participation in this sport. The coach seemed to have an intense day for tryouts planned for them, and she looked forward to getting her blood pumping. She sorely needed it after crying for most of the summer.

Lily ran with everyone else, her competitive spirit making her jog just a little quicker. She finished the lap towards the front of the group, just a bit out of breath. She grabbed her broom when she finished and mounted it quickly to get started on her laps. She was more petite for her age, but still had a somewhat boyish figure. Being smaller made her more agile, and her past Seeker training had only sharpened her skills. She completed the first lap easily, then raced around the pitch at a thrilling speed for the next two. If she had made one small mistake, the crash would have been devastating. Lily was quite confident in her agility, however, having had almost six years to hone those skills, and finished without a mishap.

The skill-based test was quite fun. It was better than flying laps around a pitch, and she only crashed into an obstacle once. Throwing a Quaffle into an unguarded hoop was easy, and she was prepared to immediately catch the charmed ball subsequently. On the other end, Lily had only held a Beater’s bat once, and she’d never used it herself. When the charmed ball was flying toward her, she panicked a little. She was able to hit the ball, but it flew to the far left of the designated hoops. Beating was absolutely not her strength.

Once they’d finished, she needed a moment to catch her breath whilst the coach explained their next activity. Finally, they would be working on teamwork. She looked at the team-mates she’d had last year, wondering how they would decide who to work with. Perhaps it would be easiest working with different members to see how well she could work with them. She believed, as previous Pecari captains had believed years before her, that it was always important to have team chemistry. As a Chaser, it was even more crucial to be in sync.

Lily approached the other Chasers, feeling comfortable taking the initiative. She wanted the position of captain badly, and she would show her leadership skills til tryouts were over. Parker and the German wizard were on one side with Isaac, so she looked for another potential Chaser to pass with. "You ready to start?" she asked another student with a friendly smile.

40 Lily Spencer Another Chaser thread. 357 Lily Spencer 0 5

Jozua Sparks

February 18, 2019 9:27 PM

Keeping it real by Jozua Sparks

On the morning of the Quidditch tryout, Jozua spent his breakfast second guessing his decision to sign up. He was a seventh year, with RATS coming up, and a future plan that kind of depended on him doing reasonably well on those. He also had his own club to run and college applications to send out. If he was smart, he’d drop Quidditch and focus on those things.

Jozua apparently wasn’t smart because at the appointed time the tryouts were due to begin, Jozua was there, stretching and wishing Lily luck on her own try out.

He wasn’t nervous. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was mildly nervous on Lily’s behalf. He was hoping that she would get Captain. She ought to already be one, now that Ben was graduated (as should Jozua with Joe’s departure, but that wasn’t the point, and Jozua had never wanted it anyway), but with the new school wide format, captaincies were more rare. Ben had got it last year anyway, so with any luck, Lily would too. This group looked like it was the Pecari and Friends team, so Lily really ought to be the one leading it, right?

He was certain that he himself stood no chance at it. Despite being the oldest guy on the team (Lily being the only other seventh year, and her not being a guy, he felt secure in this assumption), Jozua was by no means certain he would even make first string, never mind the impossibility that he might be deemed good enough to be captain. If anything, his nerves were more agitated over the possible outcome that he would make the team rather than that he wouldn’t.

That was the much riskier outcome from this tryout as far as Jozua was concerned. Not making the team would be status quo. Making it would be simultaneously terrifying and exciting. He wanted on the team, to do the traveling and the being with Lily thing (especially if she was captain, so he could see all her away victories, too), but if he was reserve again, it would be as much relief as disappointment. Competitive games were fraught with opportunities to disappoint not only his House now, but the whole of Sonora. And Lily, if she was Captain.

Still, with Coach Kinsell being new (Jozua had no memory of the man’s brief stint in the position when he’d been a third year), he thought he might look pretty good for the team on paper - seventh year player, uninterrupted participation in Quidditch since his first year, Assistant Captain of Teppenpaw before House teams ceased to exist - all very impressive sounding qualifications until the name Jozua Sparks got attached to them.

But if Coach Kinsell didn’t know about the Quidditch fiasco that had been Jozua Sparks during his earlier years. Coach Reilly post dated the worst of it, too, so even if Kinsell got notes from her, they’d mostly just say something like “declined competitive play; terrible at all positions other than Keeper, which he’s pretty okay at; never ever under any circumstances play him as a Beater in a real match” which was going to be fairly consistent with his try-out performance. Well, the part about never playing beater was probably just his own wishful thinking. But it looked like the sign-ups had enough people willing to play that so Jozua would not have to. So no risk of that really.

The try-out began. Jozua jogged. As previously noted, he was one of only two seventh years, and he was taller than Lily, so he had a long leg advantage over most of the younger players, which was the only reason he did as well as he did, keeping mostly to the middle of the pack. That height was also going to be his not-so-secret weapon once he got to showing off his Keeping skills. The thing he had going for him the most was his longer reach. He wasn’t super tall for his age or anything, barely scraping past average really, but he was seventeen, and further along his growth curve than most anyone else out here. Of course, Isaac had signed up for Keeper, which he hadn’t anticipated, so he was going to have more competition on the reach-is-key premise than he would have liked.

Jozua still wasn’t a fast flyer. That had never been something he got good at. Flying too fast freaked him out a little bit. So he did . . . poorly . . . in the broom race. He did better than he had during his first try-out six years ago, but that was like saying elephants moved faster than turtles. They did, but nobody was likely to come up with ‘fast’ as a description for how elephants move. Likewise, it would not be the word used to describe Jozua today, either.

The skill test was basically torture. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Jozua got through it just fine; he even kind of enjoyed it. He didn’t run into a single thing the whole way out and back. He threw the Quaffle through the hoop without a hitch, and caught the returning Quaffle without incident. He even managed to wing the side of the goal post with the bludger (this was more-or-less on purpose; bludgers were meant to hit things, not sail harmlessly through them, and it felt cruel to the ball to do anything other than let it smash things). He flew around the poles, darted past the boxes as they moved about (that was the hardest bit of the whole thing, but he waited patiently until he had figured out their pattern then gone for it), and flew through the hoops without touching them.

He just took more than twice as long as anybody else doing the test. Waiting for him to finally get it all over with was the torturous part, for everybody else.

Jozua ignored the instructions for Chasers and Beaters, didn’t even notice nothing was said about Seekers, and just lined up to take his turn after Isaac for the Keeping tryout. It was both the only position he had any skill in, such as it was, and the only one he had any interest in playing. And it was his last year at Sonora. Keeper or bust. He was done filling in wherever else they needed bodies.

The nice thing about Keeper was that you didn’t need to be a fast flyer. Sure, you had to get from one hoop to the next pretty quick if you wanted to block a shot that changed target at the last moment, but he was fine with sprints. He’d shown that well enough getting through the boxes. It was long high velocity flights that he had trouble with. Sprints like that were over before he could start getting worked up about how fast he was going.

So as Lily’s chasing group came at him, he just smiled, and watched their body language, readying himself to move from in front of the center hoop as soon as he knew which of the others was the one being targeted.

OOC: I am assuming Lily finds someone to go chasing with and you all make a run at the goals. Seems a safe bet.

1 Jozua Sparks Keeping it real 348 Jozua Sparks 0 5

Simon Mordue

February 28, 2019 10:51 PM

Insulting everyone I can think of offhand. by Simon Mordue

Sports were, Simon knew, important for the development of a proper gentleman. They offered an opportunity to engage in conflict resolution and leadership, to prove his strength and bravery, and, in theory, a socially relaxed place to befriend other young gentlemen, though there were complications interfering with that practice these days. Interfering with, but not outright preventing, though, so the point stood. Important stuff, sports. Very good to do. Very…

…Very social. With all sorts of people. Including lots whom he’d rather not work with at all.

At least, he thought as the coach started up, Tatiana and her knight weren’t in evidence. Montoir never had been, of course, but Simon knew Nathaniel had been somewhat friendly with Tatiana and that could have become a problem. Nathaniel was a decent enough chap, of course, but his cousin came from weaker stock than Simon did. His mother was useless at best and his father had been actively harmful to the family reputation. Nathaniel really did not need to associate with loud, garish foreigners, especially not ones who really were quite damnably pretty enough to cause…problems.

Besides, they needed unity, and girls didn’t promote that. It was always strange with them around, and Tatiana was small and flighty and couldn’t even communicate properly, so she was really of no use whatsoever to the team.

Simon ran with a grim determination, focusing on the end rather than anyone else, and was slower than he would have liked during the stretches due to the effort it took not to show that he would have rather had a moment to catch his breath – though at least, he thought, he wasn’t in as bad a shape as that German Aladren was. What on Earth, Simon wondered, was he doing here – trying to prove something? Aladren had had a reputation for Quidditch skill when Simon first arrived at Sonora, but it had had those two nobody captains, who’d run it into the ground long before the German kid had shown up here. Now Quidditch was primarily a Teppenpaw and Crotalus affair, though Pecari did keep coming close to pulling together its own team. Aladren, though, they were long out of the game, so it would have been clever for one of them to seek social advancement here…had he had the stamina to do it with.

Simon had played both Chaser and Beater in his time at Sonora and so was fairly accustomed to moving around obstacles (otherwise generally known as teammates, but Beater also required interacting with physical obstacles). Speed, however, was more challenging, and he neither won the race nor excelled in the hoops. In fact, halfway through the hoops, he mis-judged one of the altitude changes and banged his shin on the edge of a hoop. He bit his lip, just keeping his exclamation to a gasp instead of something noisier. However, he got all the way through the course both ways, and assumed that made him a better candidate for Beater than the small girl, anyway - though she had done an impressively good job for, well, a young girl. He wasn’t sure exactly how old she was - he didn’t recognize her, but she looked larger than your average first year - but she was clearly younger.

However, since she was a girl, he was surprised to see her still tagging along to the dummies to Beat. He had not really bothered reading the rest of the sign-up list beyond noting familiar names, so this was a surprise to him, though one he quickly shrugged off as he squared up against his own dummy and went to work, looking forward to the end of the day, when they would at least be able to get things on the Pitch back to normal without a meddlesome new adult hanging around watching everything.

16 Simon Mordue Insulting everyone I can think of offhand. 369 Simon Mordue 0 5

Jake "JD" Daniels

March 08, 2019 6:35 AM

Starting out by Jake "JD" Daniels

There were many things about the magical world which sort of perplexed JD. Not that this was a word he was even quite sure he understood what it meant. Perplexed was…perplexing. Still, sports had always been his thing and when he’d heard that there was a sport which involved throwing balls at each other on brooms in the air while some of them could, potentially, explode, he was definitely interested. Explosions and sports, those were two things which definitely caught JD’s attention.

He scribbled his name on the sign-up sheet when he’d had a chance and woke up early the day of the try-outs to eat a nice, full breakfast the way his mother had taught him. After all, she knew pretty much everything there was to know about anything. JD gobbled up his eggs and sausage, dipping his crispy bacon into the maple syrup he’d drizzled over a stack of alternating waffles and pancakes.

However, once he arrived at try-outs, it appeared that he had gotten everything all wrong. From the coach’s explanations to the drills they were being set to do, it didn’t really seem like there were any exploding balls. Maybe that came later, if you made the team. Yeah, that made sense. JD was now determined to make the team. He eagerly grabbed a broom and lined up with the others to partake in the obstacle course race.

As he and the other students pushed off the ground to begin, JD felt himself slipping. He wasn’t even half a foot off the ground when he began to turn slightly, the broom pushing forward as he clung desperately to the thin stick before ending up on the ground, the broom faithfully dropping down with him. Not one to be deterred easily, JD picked up the broom and tried again. This time, he stayed on it (how, he didn’t know, not with all the moving obstacles he’d needed to dodge), but the little mishap cost him a place in the race and he (unsurprisingly) finished last.

Man, wizards were nuts.

A little out of breath but not one to know when to back down from a challenge, JD hung around for the next part, figuring that with his history of baseball, the Beater’s position would suit him best. What he did not expect, however, was for the angry flying balls to have minds of their own. He mostly spent his time trying to fly out of the way of the metal balls but when he did manage to get in a hit (usually catching himself off-balance afterward, clutching to the broom for dear life until he could manage to right himself again) the bludger he hit would always fly hard and on target. JD might not have been great on a broom but his batting arm had always been above average.

At the end of the try-outs, JD was sweaty and tired, and he still hadn’t seen a single exploded ball. Man.

26 Jake "JD" Daniels Starting out 1449 Jake "JD" Daniels 0 5